Lady in Red
by Practical Cannibalism
Summary: Done for Momosportif's D.Grayman contest CrossxTyki: Cross returns to Headquarters after some time and Tyki stops by to say hello. One-shot, implied spoilers kinda sorta As always, enjoy :P


a/n: hallo everyone! I'm back after awhile. This one's relatively shortish and was done for Momosportif's DGM contest (psst, go check it out, it's on their page!) This one is CrossxTyki cause its hawt and doesn't get enough lovin, imo! D: This is a bit more simpler compared to my other things, but I found the prompt hard! D:

**Prompt**: Use a room in the Black Order and center your fic around it!

Did I use the room enough? I dunno, I hopes so!, so anyway, plz enjoy, kaykay? :P

Disclaimer: I don't own thems!!

Cross entered the room. It was dark and smelled of dust. Ages had passed since he had last been here, in his own personal rooms at headquarters.

He closed the door with a creak behind him, his footsteps muffled against the woven carpet. Silhouettes of light dripped out from the cracks the heavy curtains left behind on the windows. He placed a gloved hand to the thick fabric and gently moved it aside. Stars blinked in the black sky beyond the dirty glass, the moon a half-open eye lazily looking down at him.

He turned from the window, the curtain sliding back into place and sending up a puff of dust. Plucking up several large candles, he lit them up, the orange flames sighing softly in the gloom.

The gentle fragrance of melting wax began to cover up the scent of dust and disuse as Cross glanced around.

The place was still in the disarray he had left it in nearly three years ago. Nobody had touched it. He didn't know whether to be angry or pleased about it. He certainly didn't want people touching his things, but now _he_ had to clean up the mess.

The bed sheets hung off to the right, a pillow strewn on the floor. The closet door was ajar, old clothes poking out of it. An empty wine bottle here and there; packs of cigarettes on the dresser with several in mid-roll over the dark wood. There was a large picture over the bed, a faceless woman in a red dress, and he grinned as he noticed it was tilted to one side.

Shrugging, he moved about, putting away the things that were important enough, and then went out into the hall, calling for the maids.

After all, Cross didn't do housework.

o&o

It indeed had been too long. Too long since he could really rest, look without suspicion and walk without care. It wasn't because headquarters was his home, it was far more like a prison in his experience, but it certainly gave that false sense of security. And no one knew just how false it was better than Cross.

He stepped out of the shower, steam rising in his wake. The towel was clean but it smelled of being in the cupboard too long and he wrinkled his nose at it. He dried off, letting his still damp hair hang down his back as he wrapped the cloth around his waist, picking up his glasses from the bathroom counter.

He picked up a brush and ran it through his now wine-colored hair, slicking it back over his head and down his shoulder like a fountain of blood.

A cold breeze blew silently through the steamy bathroom, prickling his bare skin. He smirked, refusing to turn away from his current task.

"Honestly, can't I ever get some time to myself?" Cross chuckled behind his garnet curtain.

"We both know that that's the last thing on your to-do list." Playfully drawled the reply.

Tyki Mikk leaned into the doorframe, head resting against it, a smooth grin lacing his face. Those heated gold eyes running over Cross' body like molten metal.

The Noah wore a loose cotton shirt rolled up at the elbows and unbuttoned to the chest. His black pants were held up with suspenders and his white gloved hands were shoved into his pockets in a rakish manner.

Cross sighed, "You always make a mess when you come here."

"My apologies," Tyki smiled and sidled behind the older man, slipping the brush from his calloused grip. "I have a feeling you don't really mind anyway."

"Whatever," Cross said blandly, moving expertly out of Tyki's reach and into the bedroom. Everything was clean and in place, even the oil painting was righted and the whole room smelled sharp and clinical to an almost overwhelming point.

Cross turned to the dresser and lit a cigarette, letting the acrid smoke slowly permeate the place and steal away the clean scents.

A caramel hand slithered down his side, resting at the low slung towel. Tyki's mouth came from behind, stealing the cigarette from Cross' lips with his own.

"You have such fine taste." The Noah mouthed beneath his ear, smoke billowing out like tainted whispers to dissipate into nothingness as Tyki crushed the thing into the polished wood of the dresser, leaving a singe mark.

Cross laughed in his throat and Tyki smiled against that tan neck almost lovingly, even as he slowly backed towards the bed, taking the General with him.

"I just got out of the shower too," Cross grumbled as he hit the silken sheets, towel nearly undone as Tyki straddled him. The General lifted a single hand to rest against the Noah's taut stomach as Tyki pulled off a glove with his teeth.

"If you're going to be in my bed, take off your shoes. I won't have filthy things near me." Cross said through a lopsided grin, using that one hand to slowly undo the rest of Tyki's shirt.

Tyki gave a sigh, "Even with that reputation of yours, you really know how to ruin the mood." The shoes went tumbling to the floor.

"I don't bother with things like that for you." Cross replied, unsnapping the suspenders and now working the buttons on the Noah's pants.

"Is that meant to be an insult?" Tyki leaned down, removing Cross' glassed with his tongue.

Cross gave a simple 'Hmph' as he slid the cloth from Tyki's shoulders, using both hands to pull the Noah free of such restraint. A long scar cut itself across the smooth plain of Tyki's chest. The mark was barely visible, but Cross could see it, resting his hand against it, over the Noah's heart.

Tyki's black curls slid over his face as he looked into the General's eyes. Slim, tantalizing as hot, red velvet.

"Didn't expect to see me back here?" The Noah mused through half-turned lips.

"Shut up," the General grabbed Tyki, tossing him on his back as linen puffed in the air at the fall. He ran a hand through that black hair, the twisting strands grabbing a hold his flesh as if they could strangle the life out of him themselves. "And cut your stupid hair, it makes you look like a woman." He sneered and the Noah let out darkly amused laughter.

A dark hand shot forth and took a fistful of crimson locks, dragging their owner down. "Make me." He hissed through his teeth.

Oh, Cross was sure he would.

o&o

Cross awoke to the harsh jangling of the telephone. The sound was offensive and made him clench his eyes tighter. He wouldn't answer it.

Light flirted with him through eyes that wouldn't close tight enough, and he sighed, giving in to the day. The window curtains were half open, and the sun danced in, making golden trails in the air. The sky outside was lighted sapphire blue, crisscrossed with opaque clouds. The General turned over. The spot beside him was still warm, but Tyki was gone. Just as always.

The phone finally gave up on its attempt to be answered, and Cross sat up with a growl, stiff and dissatisfied. Not with the night previous, but with life in general.

The connection he and the Noah had was unexplainable- and irrelevant in his opinion- but they were quite similar. They enjoyed similar lifestyles, had similar tastes, and didn't always do exactly as they were told. To him, Tyki was a lacquered wolf- always looking good, but never tame. Wild.

He wondered how the Noah saw him.

He looked around the room; bed sheets hanging off the right, pillow on the floor. He blinked, looking back to see that the red-dressed woman now hang to the other side.

A white glove poked out through the folds on sheets, bite marks still visible on the fine and delicate fabric.

"Ah, what did I say? Always making a mess." He spoke to himself bemusedly and the phone rang again.

This time, the phone was greatly relieved when that husky voice grumbled "Hello" into it.


End file.
